Crimson Emeralds
by elphaba-thropp
Summary: Elphaba's years at the mauntery are revealed.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: Since Gregory Maguire doesn't really give us a detailed picture concerning Elphaba's mauntery years, I decided to take it upon myself to provide an insight. I hope you like what I've come up with. I am still stuck on chapter 4, so if anyone has any ideas please feel free to share. You will get credit, this I promise lol. Read on...**

There was blood everywhere. Elphaba stood in the doorway, numb and heartbroken. She knew whose blood stained the walls and the floor. She searched for the body of her lover, but found none.

"Somehow they found out," she thought furiously.

Her clenched hands shook with rage. How dare they violate her haven and kill Fiyero! Elphaba knelt next to a pool of blood in the far corner of the loft. It was surrounded by bloody boot prints.

"Fiyero," she whispered reverently.

She smeared some of the crimson liquid on her wrists. Tears stung her dark eyes. Elphaba was beside herself with grief. Her last moments with Fiyero played over in her mind.

"_Why should I keep myself so safe?"_

"_I love you."_

"_So that's that then, and that's it. And I love you. So I promise to be careful."_

Elphaba couldn't stand it any longer. She threw her head back and screamed. She didn't care of the Gale Force found her now. She had failed her mission. She had failed her life. What hurt the most was that she had failed her lover. Her tears fell freely and in her grief, Elphaba willed them to scar.

It was hours before she rose from the floor and left the loft. Swathed in her cloaks, she wandered the streets aimlessly. Eventually, Elphaba came upon the mauntery in the north of the city. A steady snow had begun to fall. Elphaba took no notice. Something inside had snapped. She was neither here nor there.

She crouched in front of the massive wooden doors, her eyes darted like a frightened animal's. The faint strains of an organ drifted into the peaceful night. The Lurlinemas Mass had begun.

Elphaba tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. It felt like her heart had become lodged there. A thick rope hung to her left. Her hand was poised in midair while she debated pulling it. In the end, the bell rang out like a distant voice.

It was some moments before a young maunt answered the door. She was a lively thing, only a year or two younger than Elphaba. She glanced around the stone porch before spotting Elphaba in the corner. Her eyes reflected mild surprise.

"Good evening, friend. Merry Lurlinemas to you."

Elphaba did not answer. She remained crouched, staring at her hands. The maunt clucked her tongue and helped Elphaba to her feet.

Elphaba was led to a washroom and made to sit on a stool. The maunt began filling a wash basin to clean the blood off the green woman's wrists, but stopped when she saw the horrified look on Elphaba's face.

"Come with me, dolly."

The maunt led Elphaba to a parlor room. A glowing fire warmed the room and the lethargic older maunts who occupied it. Elphaba was tucked into a large armchair. Its color resembled that of an old photograph or a faded memory. Elphaba looked faded as well.

Her head sank back into the secure embrace of the soft material. A wool blanket was draped over her legs. Once the maunt was satisfied the Elphaba was comfortable, she hurried off to her devotions.

Outside, the snow danced and drifted. Inside, the maunts dribbled and snored. Elphaba's brain buzzed noisily in her skull. Images of Fiyero haunted her dreams. While Elphaba slept, one of the elder maunts wheeled over to her. The maunt held Elphaba's hands and muttered soothing encouragements.

"The poor dolly is in pain, but her scars are not visible. The poor dolly is sick. She needs to rest. Sleep, my pet. Old Mother Yackle will watch over you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: I hope you enjoyed the 1st chap. I think it is the best chap in this story so far. lol. I like how this next chap turned out. Chap 4 is no longer giving me a headache! Yay! I just hope it is of the same caliber as its predecessors. As always...REVIEW:)**

January 11, 1834

_It has been a little over a year since I came to live here. The maunts have been kind to me and have grown accustomed to my verdigris. I have taken a vow of silence as punishment for Fiyero's death. My only solace is this journal. Here, all of my thoughts, memories, and inquiries can dwell._

_I must confess I have become a creature of habit. My days consist of my morning devotions, chores, and evening devotions. My meals are at the same time each day. The chores are not so difficult, except for the washing. It takes me hours to wash a single floor, but the Superior Maunt is always pleased with my work. Laundry day is another adventure. It is actually easier because I can use a stick to poke the clothes around._

_I am not too fond of my devotions. Father and Nessie always had more of a taste for religion than I. I say the prayers as a sort of poetry. The flowery language used to convey a desired emotion is almost enough to convince even the most cynical audience. Naturally, it has no effect on my withered heart. Remorse and grief are the only emotions that serve a purpose in my life. _

_I must continue my writing at a later date. The infant the maunts have left in my care is beginning to fuss again. Of all the maunts here, the Superior Maunt chooses me. I swear the woman is mad at times._

Elphaba laid the quill on the desk and sealed the inkpot. The baby shrieked for attention, causing Elphaba to rise from her chair to attend to his needs. "What ails you, child?" she thought. She hesitantly picked the boy up and was immediately overcome by a most unpleasant aroma. Elphaba was reminded why she had avoided children most of her life.

She quickly cleaned him up and disposed of the offending package. She stared at the infant before her. The boy stared back, his green eyes wide and curious. Somehow, she felt a connection to this small boy. She couldn't explain why since most of the past year was a haze in her mind. She had been in a state of severe shock and depression over Fiyero's death. "You remind me of a man I loved very much," she silently told the boy. The baby merely blinked and continued to watch her.

Elphaba felt a sudden urge to touch him. She slowly traced the side of his face. A sharp pain flashed through Elphaba's lower body. She remembered a room dimly lit by candles. The smell of incense and blood hung thick in the air. A cry for hot water and towels rang in her ears. Her body felt like it was being torn apart from the inside out. She remembered one final pain slicing through her before she heard crying. Her own tears flowed, but she felt no pain. Someone dabbed the sweat from her worn face. A numbness settled over her.

Elphaba jerked her hand away from the infant's face. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. Could this child be of her own flesh and blood? Was he the final, tangible evidence of her time with Fiyero, the proof it wasn't a fantasy? Elphaba slowly backed away from the cradle. Her hands were shaking, and her breath came in short, trembling pants. This couldn't be her son. She didn't want him to be her son. Elphaba covered her face with her hands and wept.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: Thank you to all who have reviewed so far. Keep it up! Tell your friends! lol**

Elphaba was airing out the bed linens when she received a message from the Superior Maunt. She was to be present in the Superior's office following evening prayer. There was an important matter to be discussed. Elphaba decided not to dwell on it since the baby was determined to uproot every gardenia in his path. She gave an exasperated sigh as she plucked him out of the flowers. She quickly deposited him in his high chair so she could finish her chore. She picked up the flowers he had managed to free from their dirt beds and placed them on the tray. The boy happily mashed the flowers on the table.

Elphaba couldn't help but be amazed at how much he had grown. The baby watched his mother hang more of the crisp white linen on the clothesline. He was two years old and as silent as his mother.

The day passed quickly, and before Elphaba knew it sundown had arrived. For some reason, she was very anxious about meeting with the Superior Maunt. Perhaps it was because the last authority figure she met had sought to manipulate her. Whatever the cause, Elphaba felt the need to be on her guard. She barely touched her supper.

At the conclusion of the evening's devotions, the maunt who had delivered the message to Elphaba offered to look after the baby for the night. Elphaba nodded her consent before heading toward the Superior Maunt's office.

Elphaba hesitated for only a moment outside the oak door. She drew a fortifying breath and knocked twice.

"Come in, my child."

Elphaba slowly opened the large door. The Superior Maunt was seated at her desk. Oil paintings depicting saints adorned the walls. The Superior Maunt motioned for Elphaba to sit. Elphaba obeyed, folding her hands demurely in her lap.

"Do not be nervous, Sister Saint Aelphaba," said the Superior Maunt. Her voice was calm and affectionate.

"You have been with us for three years now. Since your entrance you have taken a vow of silence. I feel it is time for that vow to be dissolved." She paused to gauge Elphaba's reaction. Elphaba blinked, but said nothing.

"The boy in your care is growing up, and he needs to be taught. He hardly says a word. It will be up to you to teach him."

Elphaba's eyes widened slightly.

"There is no cause for alarm. He will learn by your example. You are now to serve two years of whisper. We will decide the remainder of your career from there. May the grace of the Unnamed God guide and protect you."

"Thank you, Mother," whispered Elphaba as she rose to leave.

"Just a minute, child. Have you given the boy a name?"

"His name is Liir," responded Elphaba softly.

The Superior Maunt beamed at her. "You've named him after the patron saint of children. Wonderful!"

Elphaba bowed her head and left the room.

In the safety of her chambers, Elphaba allowed herself to breathe more freely. The Superior Maunt's words worried her. _It will be up to you to teach him._ How in Oz was she going to teach Liir how to speak? Elphaba never had to teach Nessa anything. Their father had handled their education. All Elphaba had to do was cater to her sister's every need.

Elphaba sighed heavily and massaged her temples. There was no sense in losing sleep over it. She would handle the situation in the morning.

"If only you were here, Fiyero," she whispered to the air. "You would know what to do."


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: As always, I own nothing. I read Son of a Witch and it is AMAZING! Everyone MUST go out and read/buy this book!I will try to update more often. Please keep the reviews coming!**

_Elphaba wandered down the forest path. Fog crept along the gnarled roots of the trees and clung to the branches. Elphaba could just make out a dark figure in the mist. It moved toward her, but she did not feel threatened._

_She reached out and called to the figure. Blue-diamond fingers wove through her emerald ones. He felt so alive._

"_I thought you were dead," she told the figure._

"_I am alive in your heart and in our son," he answered._

"_Liir is not our son."_

"_Stop lying to yourself, Fae. You know he is."_

_Elphaba swallowed back her tears. "How can I teach him? I have no motherly instinct. I barely had a mother myself."_

"_Talk to him. Show him the world. He will start to repeat you. Most importantly, you have to love him."_

"_I am incapable of love. Ever since I lost you, I have been numb."_

"_Have faith, Fae. I believe in you." He kissed her and turned to leave._

"_Yero!" she called to his retreating figure. He did not turn back. "Don't go," she whispered._

Elphaba tried her best to follow Fiyero's other worldly advice in the following year. She would talk to Liir and encourage him to name plants and objects around the mauntery. It was a slow process at first. Elphaba would often feel frustrated at the end of the day. Eventually, Liir learned to communicate with his mother and the other maunts. Despite his newfound skill, Liir still preferred to spend his days in quiet observation.

The year Liir turned five, Elphaba was assigned to the ward for incurables as a nurse. She tended to the terminally ill and the dying. She changed sheets, cleaned bed pans, and administered medication. When a patient died, she would arrange their wrists on top of the pure white sheet and utter the nonsense words of scripture that seemed to help. She could handle the dying. That is, until Tibbett arrived.


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: I am coming to the end of this fic. I hope you continue to review. I promise I have another story already in the works. It will not be a Wicked one, however. Happy reading!**

Elphaba had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. Tibbett was a mere fragment of his former self. His ailment was taking a terrible toll on his body. The exuberance of his soul, however, had yet to waver.

He was placed in the east wing under Elphaba's care. She was glad for the veil that covered most of her face. It would be difficult for Tibbett to identify her. She figured he was too sick to notice anyway. She was completely wrong. Tibbett recognized her almost immediately.

"As I live and breathe, is that you Elphaba?"

She averted her eyes and continued her ministrations.

"Don't look away from me, Elphie. It is you! Miss Elphaba Thropp Third Descending if I remember the nomenclature correctly. I haven't heard about you since you pulled your disappearing act back when we were freshies at Shiz. Put us in a right state that day, you did! Poor Glinda, she was inconsolable. She barely ate for weeks."

Elphaba felt a tug on her heart. Glinda had been that distraught over her absence? Elphaba had expected Glinda to find some other person to attach herself to; the likes of Pfannee or Shenshen would have suited. Elphaba looked Tibbett in the eye.

"How is she now?"

Tibbett smiled at her. "I knew you'd come around if I mentioned Glinda. She is back to her old self. She's married to a lord, Sir Windbag or something of that ilk. I heard she and Crope ran into Fiyero not too long ago. Shame about him. He was a fine lad. Handsome too. Crope and I loved to ogle him."

Elphaba became guarded lest she give her past with Fiyero away. She was surprised that he never mentioned his encounter with Glinda to her. In all fairness, there were things she hadn't told him as well.

"What have you heard concerning his…disappearance?" she asked.

"There have been many different stories circulating, even after all this time. There is one that has been widely accepted."

Elphaba leaned in, anxious to learn.

"Many people believe he was involved in a plot against the Wizard. Somehow it was discovered, and he was done away with."

"More like he was involved with a conspirator," thought Elphaba. "I was never one for gossip, but I don't believe that. Unless he changed drastically when I left Shiz, he didn't seem the type," she said aloud.

Tibbett chuckled a little, inducing a coughing fit. When it subsided a few minutes later he said, "We've all changed since then. Who knows what he was really capable of? You have changed the most, my dear Elphaba. You used to be such an advocate for old Dr. Dillamond's research. You forced us all to think about our world, our lives, even ourselves to an extent. Now you have succumbed to a life of mundane sameness. You move about this ward as a machine would, precise and predictable. What happened to that fire and energy you used to possess? You have lost sight of yourself. Why?"

Tibbett's words stunned her. He was right, of course. She was never one to follow a continuous daily pattern. She hated structure and being subordinate. This was a self-inflicted punishment for all of her failings thus far.

"I have set out to accomplish many things in my life. Unfortunately, I have yet to be successful in my endeavors. There have been…casualties as a result. This is my penance," she said, referring to her mauntish robes.

"No one is denied forgiveness, Elphaba. Even I, who have seen many friends distance themselves from me, do not hold grudges for long. Whatever it is that angers you, let it go. Forgive yourself."

Tibbett's breathing was becoming labored now. Elphaba knew it was time for him to rest.

"I think that's enough catching up for today. You need your strength. We will talk more tomorrow."

There was an odd tightness in her throat. She had been moved by Tibbett's words though she didn't believe they applied to her. She needed to leave and check on Liir before she lost her resolve in Tibbett's sagely presence.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note: Another end to another fanfic. I hope you all enjoyed this little endeavor of mine. I am very pleased with how it turned out. Thank you for all of your reviews and comments. They really mean a lot to me. This chap may seem to not quite end, but remember that this is only a filler section for Gregory Magire's novel. The next chap would be section 2 of the novel. I hope you enjoy it!**

Tibbett's condition varied from day to day. On bad days, he would drift between consciousness and sleep. He would sometimes experience delirium and rail against old friends and colleagues for injustices they did not commit. There were more good days than bad, however, and he would often play with Liir or sit outside when the weather allowed.

It was a sunny, clear day in April when he asked Elphaba to accompany him in the garden. She helped him into a wheelchair and walked him out the back door. Tibbett breathed deeply. He loved being outside in the fresh air. Elphaba sat quietly across from him on the stone bench. He placed a skeletal hand on hers.

"My dear Elphaba, my time in this world is growing short. I must confess something to you."

He paused to catch his breath. He behaved very much like an old man though he was barely 30 years old. Elphaba waited patiently.

"I know why you have sentenced yourself to this life. You feel that you are responsible for Fiyero's demise."

Elphaba's head snapped to face Tibbett. Her eyes grew wide with disbelief.

"That's absurd."

"Is it? No need to fret." Tibbett patted her hand soothingly. "Your secret is safe with me. It wasn't hard to figure out, truthfully. Whenever his name came up in our conversations I would see an incredible sadness cloud your eyes. It was only for an instant, but it was there regardless. You loved him very much."

It wasn't a question, but Elphaba nodded her head anyway.

"No matter what you believe it wasn't your fault. His choices were his own to make, not yours. You of all people should realize and accept that. He would not want you to live this way."

Tibbett gently kissed her forehead. "I hope you find peace, Elphaba."

Later that night, Tibbett passed quietly in his sleep. Elphaba held his hand as he slipped away. After reciting a few prayers for the safe passage of his soul, and meaning them for once, she arranged his wrists above the sheet and informed the Superior Maunt. Burial arrangements were made for the morning. Elphaba did not sleep for the remainder of the night. Though she tried to remain distant she had grown fond of Tibbett once again. Now he was gone.

She sat up and watched Liir sleep, blissfully unaware of the change that was about to occur. The Superior Maunt had decided it was time for Elphaba to leave and re-enter society. There was no more to be done for her at the mauntery. Elphaba knew what she had to do. The caravan would arrive shortly after breakfast. She had to travel to the Vinkus and confront Fiyero's widow. Only then would she be able to let go. Elphaba stayed up thinking about the journey ahead. She took out of her trunk the black scarf with the red roses that Fiyero had given her a lifetime ago. She could only finger its delicate pattern and stare at it. She continued to stare at it long after her candle had burnt out.


End file.
